"Step out of
the car, please Miss," snapped the crop-haired policewoman.
WPC Tracy French was not having a good day. Sharon had broken up with
her at breakfast. Then, baby Shaun threw up over her new uniform and
she had to put on the blue serge outfit which made her bum look big.
But that hadn't stopped Inspector Bolger groping her in the canteen
after lunch. Then she'd lost her contact lenses arresting a pickpocket
who'd nicked a packet of hobnobs from Tesco's. Finally, PC Boddington
said he'd seen a UFO and insisted they chase the posh tart in a flash
BMW who was now giving her lip. To cap it all she had a splitting headache
and had left her tampons at home. She pinned Romola to the bonnet of
the car and ran her hands up the back of her legs.

"That's an expensive pair of knickers you're skirt's tucked into —Dolce & Gabbana, are they?"
"Oh shit!" said Romola, and spun round.
"Don't move!" snapped the policewoman, sliding her hand over
Romola's expensive lingerie
"I don't think you'll find a flying saucer there", said Romola.
"Or in THERE - ohh, your hands are cold!"
"Perhaps it was a bouncy castle you saw, " suggested Gerald.
"Bouncy castle?" repeated PC Boddington.
"Like the one over there," he added, pointing to the spot
where Yyerg's ship had been.
The officers heads swiveled round.
"Bugger me!" said PC Boddington. "Where did that come
from?"
"My knickers?" suggested Romola.
"You're really asking for it," said WPC French, plunging her
hand into Romola's panties.
"Ohh, I can tell you've done that before."
"So, where's the green alien with eight legs?" demanded the
policewoman.
"Perhaps he's disguised himself as a dyke with a big bottom."
Romola winced as the policewoman grabbed her crotch.
"Where's the alien?" she repeated.
"I keep - telling you.." gasped Romola, "I — I don't
know anything about an alien."
"Or a flying saucer," added Gerald.
"Then why didn't you stop when we chased you?"
"I thought you might be muggers."
"In a marked police car with the siren going?"
"It might've been stolen. Can you smell fish?"

WPC French spun Romola round, kicked her legs apart, and jabbed her
truncheon into her crotch.
Gerald was about to object when PC Boddington gripped his arm and said
warningly: "Don't even think about it. The last bloke that fucked
with WPC French is still looking for his nuts."
Romola clutched at the bonnet, breathing hard. "Ohh, you're good.
"Did they teach you that at Police College or do you just like
getting into a girl's pants?"
"You think you're very clever, don't you, Miss tiny tits?"
"Apparently not clever enough to fool a dyke with a fish up her
big backside."
"OK, that's it. You're nicked!"
"What for?"
"Tucking your skirt into your knickers will do for starters, you
posh slut!"
"Now, look here, officer—" objected Gerald.
"—Either you tell us where the fucking alien is or I'll arrest you
both for gross indecency in a public place," snarled WPC French.
"G-Gr-Gross indecency?" stammered Gerald, trying to hide the
damp patch on his trousers.
"I knew it must be an offence to have a bum that big," said
Romola.
WPC French slapped her truncheon viciously across Romola's legs.
"I'm going to really enjoy making you regret you said that."
"Promise?"

"I've found it!" shouted Boddington.
"Where?"
"On the back seat!"
"Oh Hell!" said Gerald.
Romola's hand flew to her mouth as the policewoman pushed her aside, wrenched open the back door, and reached for the blanket.
"Not quite so cocky now are we? Well — is there anything you'd
like to tell me, Miss Designer panties?"
"Lose the fish scent — it doesn't do much for your sex appeal."
WPC French brought her truncheon down on Romola's shoulder.
"It's all her fault!" shouted Gerald
"You idiot!" said Romola, rubbing her arm.
"I wanted no part of it. I knew it was illegal, but she insisted."
"So you admit you DID see a UFO," asked Boddington.
"Yes."
"I can explain..." began Romola.
"Shut it!" snarled WPC French. "Unless you want this
up your designer arse!"
"What about the alien?" continued Boddington
"Romola insisted we take him with us."
"I can explain everything, Offic—"
"—I won't tell you again, bitch!" said WPC French.
"So there IS a green alien with eight legs under that blanket!"
exclaimed Boddington.
"No," said the policewoman, pulling back the blanket, "but
there is a monkey in a checked sports jacket fucking a Prada handbag."

"What?!" said Boddington, craning forward.
Gerald gaped. Romola giggled. Yyerg had turned into a small chimpanzee
which was rubbing it's bottom enthusiastically against her handbag while
munching contentedly on a chocolate hobnob.
She realized that Yyerg must have cloaked himself and turned her sweetest
smile on the policeman. "I tried to explain but your butch colleague
preferred to listen to the fantasies of a lunatic."
"I'm not a lunatic!" objected Gerald.
"You know you are, darling. He's a very sick boy, Officer. I'm
his therapist. I took him into the woods to calm him down. That was
when he tried to bugger my monkey. I'm sorry if we've caused you any
trouble..."
Boddington trembled as Romola leant over him to comfort Yyerg. A perfumed
tendril of long, dark hair brushed his cheek; her deep, blue eyes brought
a lump to his throat. Her black lace panties brought an even bigger
lump to his trousers. "So t-this is y-your monkey, Miss?"
he stammered.
"Exactly, officer. He's part of the treatment, too."
"So w-where's the alien?"
"There isn't one. It was my monkey you must have seen playing in
the bouncy castle."
"So why did your b-boyfriend — your patient — say he saw a flying
saucer?" asked Boddington, trying very hard to ignore the jeweled
belly button inches away from his face.
Romola showed a bit more midriff. The lump in his trousers grew bigger.
"I've told you — he's sick, Officer. He doesn't know what he's
doing. Last week he thought he was a gorilla and tried to push a banana
up my monkey's bottom in Tesco's."
Boddington pictured the scene and felt himself growing uncomfortably
hot. Romola felt Boddington feeling himself growing uncomfortably hot
and hitched her blouse up higher. He swallowed and took a step back.
"I - I - I'm n-not convinced Miss."
Romola took a step forward. Boddington took two steps back but the bulge
in his trousers remained where it was. Romola leant against him and
brushed his cheek with her soft lips. The bulge was anything but soft
and struggled to get closer to her knickers. Her lips moved on to his
ear.
"He did THAT in a packed supermarket?"
"Yes - and not just over the cream cakes."
"Pervert!" shouted Boddington. The bulge in his pants shouted
something quite different.
"It's a pack of lies! I stained my trousers in the toilet when
she turned the tap full on," objected Gerald.
"You see?" said Romola, pulling her skirt out off her pants
and smoothing it down. "He really is a very sick boy."

Boddington stared at Gerald. "I c-can see that, Miss. But I definitely
followed a UFO into these woods."
"Leave it, Frank", said WPC French. "Who knows what you
saw. All I know is I've got a splitting headache and the last thing
I want to do is to spend all night explaining to the duty sergeant how
a crashed UFO changed into a bouncy castle and why we arrested a nympho
and her twisted boyfriend for shagging their pet monkey."
"Well — when you put it like that..." said Boddington. "Perhaps
we could just arrest her?"
"Do you really want to shag a flat-chested slag who's being screwed
by a chocolate eating monkey?"
"Perhaps not..."